


sweet surrender

by baerith



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: F/M, Gen, Nico POV, No Smut, Other, aro nico, crackfic, he would Respect her if she wanted to be fisted tbh, kyrie and nero are married, kyrie is horny, kyrie-centric, pre-dmc5, small mention of fingering, the whole series is crack tbh, this fic is not about fisting i promise, what do yall consider crack in this fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 11:55:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16158497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baerith/pseuds/baerith
Summary: A Devil Breaker created by Nico to relieve Kyrie's tension.--Kyrie asks Nico for a favor.





	sweet surrender

**Author's Note:**

> [the DLC that started it all](https://www.microsoft.com/en-us/p/sweet-surrender/bshp665607nh)

Vergil had been and gone, and Nero's wound was still healing, but he insisted on having Nico over to start measuring for a replacement as soon as possible. She wasn't one to protest too hard; what was it to her if he wanted to face the discomfort of having his injury manhandled this early? She would try to be gentle of course, she wasn't a fucking monster, but her head was already spinning on all the new shit she could strap onto his body. The quicker he let her at him for measuring and prodding and poking, the quicker she could get down to it and make some fucking _art._

So she had made up her mind to ignore the inevitable whining he would make at the pain, and indeed it was not Nero's wincing that was unnerving her that day.

Instead, it was Kyrie.

Nico was as guilty as most of them were, of falling into the trap Kyrie presented. But really, how could you not, when you knocked on the door of their tiny condo on the edge of town, and it opened to her greeting you with soft eyes, holding a basket of steaming bread rolls? Or bustling around in the background in a flowing blue dress, humming quietly as she rearranged vases of flowers that never seemed to wilt?

Nico was aromantic, but she wasn't _blind._ No one was immune to the picture the woman presented. The whole thing conjured a warm, fuzzy feeling in her throat, and Nero was no help with dispelling the allure, as he worshiped every square inch of ground Kyrie walked on.

So when she arrived on the day and found Kyrie with eyes downturned at the door, Nico's heart fell. Of _course_ she was distressed at the idea of her husband in pain, _of course_ she would want to stop Nico from making anything worse for him. Nico fully expected a fight, or as much of one as someone like Kyrie would give in front of the company. She expected some heartfelt words about 'none of this being worth it', maybe an impassioned speech about the dangers of his dealings with demons.

But what she got instead, was silence.

Silence, as she opened the door; silence as she led Nico to the bright, sun-bathed living room where Nero sat piled in blankets, anything he could ever desire within remaining-arm's reach. Kyrie was silent as she placed a couple of extra pillows behind Nero's back, even as he groaned and whined about her spoiling him too much, he was fine, baby. Nico watched her blank face as she went through the motions, and felt a tendril of anxiety curl in her stomach.

On top of all that, Nero seemed completely unaffected. He was his same, eager self, unabashedly holding the stump of his arm out from his side so she could get at all the angles she needed to fit the base prosthetic. He'd also scribbled a list of features he wanted for the new arm, paper crumpled slightly in his lap, doodles all along the edge 

He was genuinely ready to get back out there and kick some ass, and Nico tried her best to match that energy as she hauled out her measuring tape and molding kit, but she had the feeling she was falling short. It was tough to do when she could feel Kyrie's eyes boring into her, tracking every movement she made. Nico didn't dare meet her gaze direct, but the few glances she snuck showed that same blank look.

It was downright unnerving, and it was endless. Every time Nero even so much as flinched, Nico felt her whole body clench, in case that was the thing that sent Kyrie over the edge. Her hands had never been steadier and more careful, and yet, Kyrie kept. fucking. watching.

By the end, Nico's nerves were absolutely frayed, and she nearly screamed with relief once the casting process was finally done. Nero was wiping the last of the alginate residue from his arm. She had tried her best to keep her mess to a minimum but spatter was inevitable; a bunch of it had run down the soft shirt he was wearing. Nico made the mistake of looking at Kyrie and nearly screamed again; her eyes were still so empty as she leaned over and pointed the drying clumps out to Nero.

Who fucking laughed. Nico wanted to kill him. How the hell was he so oblivious? She could barely breathe with all the tension in the air. How could he remain so chatty when his wife was literally planning to slit her throat?

Very easily, in fact. As easily as he mentioned "wanting to go clean off", hopping up off of the couch, bending to plant a kiss to Kyrie's cheek, and heading into the kitchen to do just that.

Leaving Nico alone with Kyrie. Who kept staring. One of lamps in the room flickered.

Nico was going to put a bomb in Nero's arm for leaving her here like this.

Without him as a buffer, the silence was unbearable, and Nico knew she had no chance of filling it, but her panic-stricken body had no such qualms about trying. She was clumsy and loud as she packed up her belongings, hoping the clatter would push through some of the cloying stillness. She was babbling too, useless, uncomfortable small talk about the weather, about her work process, about how it would be no time before she got Nero back up and running and that Kyrie should trust her, and if she's got any preferences about how the arm should be she should definitely tell her, Nico would make absolutely sure to involve her, she knew how tough this had to be on the two of them--

"Yes."

Nico almost pissed her pants.

"Huh?"

"Yes." Kyrie's eyes were still locked on, targeted. Nico still couldn't read her expression. She frantically rewound the last couple minutes in her head, racking through the torrent of words she'd spilled--

"Oh. Yes, it's been...hard on y’all?"

A slow nod. Nico could feel her stomach tightening. So this was it. Judgment at last.

Nico was nobody's delicate flower, but she really and truly thought she might faint. Her babbling started again. She could hear her own accent twanging off the walls as if to mock her, like honky-tonk music at a funeral.

"Listen, Kyrie, I'm so sorry about that, and I know it's hurting him and I'm gonna be so careful, you have no idea, I'm gonna do my very best, you can trust and believe--"

This time, she wasn't cut off by words, but by Kyrie rising to her feet. Nico slammed her mouth closed, nearly biting off her own tongue because this was it, she'd been fucking with demons and dangerous machines her whole life, but she was going to die here in this nicely decorated sitting room at the hands of this sweet woman because she had hurt her husband, and she was never going to see her workshop again and they would bury her out back--

"And yes to the other part."

Nico was confused. That was a pretty strange statement to be the last words she ever heard.

"Huh?"

"The part about preferences. About how the arm should be."

Kyrie shifted, revealing that she too had a piece of paper in her hands, on the same stationary as Nero's. It was far more crumpled, as if Kyrie had been twisting it in her fingers for the better part of an hour.

She stepped forward and held it out to Nico, who stared at it in confusion, still reeling from emotional whiplash.

_She's not mad?_

“Before, I could barely get him to touch me with it.” Kyrie’s voice was clear, and resonant. She made no effort to whisper, or lower her tone. Horrified, Nico was struck hard by the realization that Nero’s leaving the room was _deliberate._ The mess on his shirt had been nothing more than a convenient excuse.

_I'm gonna kill him..._

Kyrie was still holding the paper out, and Nico had no choice but to take it, fighting through swimming vision trying to focus on the words on the page she held.

“I-”

The other woman’s eyes had not left Nico's face once, that same hollow look Nico hadn't been able to identify earlier. On someone else it could have been mistaken for fanaticism. But this close, she could see it was lacking that maniacal edge most true evangelists had. It was more like a...pit. Endless. She could finally make out the emotion.

It was **hunger.**

"I miss it." Kyrie seemed to take her silence as leave to continue. "The Devil Bringer. Nothing's ever going to be as good as that. But--" She gestured again to the page she’d handed Nico, who finally was able to make out the words.

Kyrie had handed her a list of...specifications.

Specifications, and a _very_ detailed drawing.

Nico's brain was short-circuiting. Her mouth fell open, making her look exactly like the yokel she'd been called all her life.  

"I-I..." The word came out like more of a gasp for air, but Kyrie seemed to take it as a response. She took another step closer.

"If you can't do it, that's fine. But he's always so gentle with me, and the few times I got him to...finger me before were so wonderful...If you could promise him it's safe, that you'll make it out of something softer, like silicone..."

Kyrie’s hands twisted, and she huffed a short breath, before finally making her last stand. 

“I need him to be able to fuck me with it."

 

Nico's brain was still short-circuiting, but the fear was finally starting to leak out of her body as Kyrie's words sunk in.

 _This_ was why Kyrie had been so tense, why she'd paid such close attention to Nico's process. Of course she didn't like to see Nero in pain, but now Nico could see that that was far from the only thing Kyrie was concerned with.

_She wants..._

Nico looked into Kyrie's eyes, and held her gaze, and held it.

And held it.

Now that she was looking for it, she could see the want in her. The girl was overflowing with it, without one ounce of shame.

Staring at her, Nico could feel a emotion in herself rising to meet it.

_Respect._

A _whoosh_ of air rushed from her wide mouth, startling Kyrie a little. She jumped, unsettled for the first time since Nico arrived, and stepped back, eyes gazing instead at Nico’s feet.

Apparently, it had finally occurred to her that asking something like this of her husband’s best friend might be considered inappropriate. Her face began to color, but Nico could see her eyes were still unashamed, determined.

And Nico was glad. Because if there was nothing more in this whole wide world, that Nico respected, then it was a bitch who knew exactly what she wanted and fucking _went for it._

She had fallen for the sweetness and the soft dresses and the fresh baked bread and forgotten that this was the girl who had not only married a quarter-demon with a mutated arm, but considered that shit a fucking blessing.

Well, there was no way she would forget now.

Nico's mouth had been hanging open, her throat dry. It took a swallow and a cough before she was ready to speak. But the grin that stretched her mouth a moment later was an excellent precursor to her answer.

"Of course, darlin'." Nico was near to laughing, but she stifled it. She knew Kyrie wouldn't take the laughter the wrong way, but she needed to make absolutely sure her next statement came off genuine. After all, Kyrie had been suffering, and she had the power to make it right, and Nico needed the other woman to understand that she got just how vital this was.

So she pulled herself together, reached her calloused hands out, and grabbed Kyrie's where they were clasped in front of her.

"You've been so strong."  

And Kyrie, who had been so stoic, so resolute, so determined and insistent, straight up _melted_. Her face bloomed like a night flower, smile uncurling, radiance flushing back into her cheeks. She looked alive again.

Nico almost had to brush back a tear, even as the gears of her mind began to turn. She needed a cigarette, badly. And then she needed to get to work, because there was no time to lose.

She was gonna make Nero the best. damn. vibrator arm the world had ever seen.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/baerith_) | [tumblr](https://www.baerith.tumblr.com)
> 
>  


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